


what comes first

by alderations



Series: Whumptober/Mechtober 2020 [17]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hostage Situations, Mechtober, Temporary Character Death, Whumptober 2020, brian and nastya are qpps i will die on this hill, everyone else is there too but those are the ones who talk mostly, post-Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27076882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alderations/pseuds/alderations
Summary: Jonny is debating which crewmate to shoot for fun when a message alert goes off on the dashboard.“Brian,” he barks, startling the Drumbot enough that he hits a harsh chord on the banjo and pouts up at Jonny. “Since when do we have outside messaging systems?”“Since always,” Ivy pipes up. “No one messages us because we kill them first.”(Whumptober Day 17: blackmail)
Relationships: Drumbot Brian & Nastya Rasputina, Nastya Rasputina & The Mechanisms
Series: Whumptober/Mechtober 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950916
Comments: 18
Kudos: 92
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	what comes first

Jonny is debating which crewmate to shoot for fun when a message alert goes off on the dashboard.

“Brian,” he barks, startling the Drumbot enough that he hits a harsh chord on the banjo and pouts up at Jonny. “Since when do we have outside messaging systems?”

“Since always,” Ivy pipes up. “No one messages us because we kill them first.”

That makes sense, but it doesn’t explain why they’re getting a message right now. “We haven’t run into any other ships for weeks. Who the fuck thinks they have the right…?”

“Open it and find out?” Brian suggests, hand already hovering over the control panel.

A series of lights flashes across the dashboard, which almost makes Jonny jump. Aurora hardly speaks at all anymore, so any form of communication from her is a surprise—and it means that  _ something  _ is up. “Alright, then,” Jonny sighs. “Let’s check the mail, I guess.”

Brian presses a button, and an image pops up. It takes a moment for any of them to make sense of it; the picture is dim and rather blurry, but the shape of a battered old life pod is still visible between a few censored figures. “A life pod? Not that idiot from Camelot, is it?” asks Jonny.

“Design’s not the same,” Brian replies. His voice comes out rough and subdued as an indescribable dread builds in his chest.

Before Jonny can make any other guesses, a second message alert goes off, and Brian opens it. Another picture of the same life pod, but it’s open this time, the figures around it gone and the light brighter, sharper, showing with undeniable clarity the face they’ve all been waiting to see for so long.

Nastya is unconscious in the photo, as far as they can tell. Her face is a pale, washed-out gray, darker under her eyes, and her hair is longer than any of them have ever seen it, tangled into a thick clump that hangs over one shoulder. Her glasses are missing, making her sunken cheeks and cracked lips all the more obvious; Jonny recognizes the shredded remains of her old coat, under which her clothes barely cling to her emaciated frame.

“Who the  _ fuck,”  _ he growls, slamming a hand against the control panel and making Brian start. “Who is this? Where did they  _ find  _ her? Ivy, can you track the message?”

As Aurora flickers and whines around them, more vocal than she’s been in centuries, Ivy steps forward and draws a translucent cable out of the control panel, which she then plugs directly into the side of her head. Brian knows how much she hates doing this—the rush of information is overstimulating even for her, and she’s exposing herself to all sorts of dangers since they have no idea where the message came from, but for once, she doesn’t protest. After a moment of silent scrolling, she rips the cable out again and shakes her head hard. “I got a spIP address. They’re not far. Brian?”

He taps at a few buttons, then gestures for Ivy to enter the coordinates into the navigation system and turns to Jonny instead. “We… she doesn’t  _ want  _ to be found, Jonny.”

“By us, no,” he answers. “I know that. But they—this is obviously a threat. We have no idea what they could do to her, and she looks  _ awful,  _ and I can’t—I can’t just leave her like this, Brian. Even if she just turns around and fucks off into space again. We have to get her out.”

Brian looks at him for a long moment, his face falling as he processes Jonny’s words. “I… We shouldn’t go against her wishes like that. It’s wrong.”

“I don’t  _ care.” _

“We—we’ll have to hurt people,” Brian continues, as the Aurora revs to her full speed and takes off toward their destination. “Whoever sent this message, they aren’t just going to hand her over.”

Jonny rolls his eyes. “Yes, Brian, I know that. Since when have I ever given a  _ flying  _ fuck about shooting a few bastards who get in my way?”

As always, it takes a minute to break through Jonny’s bravado, so Brian just keeps staring at him, his eyebrows slowly raising as he waits for Jonny to catch his drift. He can’t say anything, because it would be wrong to ask Jonny to flip his switch, after all. The voice in his head  _ screams  _ at him to stop, to put his back to the wall and protect himself before his sense of right and wrong is dashed into the ground, but under that voice is the immeasurable current of love that pushes him toward Nastya almost as fast as Aurora can fly.

He doesn’t want to kill. He doesn’t want to hurt. But he wants the option to do whatever it fucking takes to bring Nastya home in one piece.

Jonny’s eyes go wide as he finally puts the pieces together, and before Brian can change his mind, the first mate yanks him to his feet and hits the switch on his back with practiced precision. Darkness shutters Brian’s vision, and Ivy turns from the controls to stabilize him with a hand between his shoulder blades until he comes back to reality. The protective spark in the back of his mind has, without warning, grown to an inferno that blazes behind his eyes and renders his throat dry and thick with rage. He locks eyes with Jonny, offering him a silent thanks, and then turns back to the dashboard.

Another icon has popped up. “They’re calling us,” Ivy announces.

“Let them through, Aurora,” Jonny commands.

At once, the view of the stars ahead is blocked by an image similar to those they’ve already received, except the life pod is gone now. Nastya is slumped in a chair, unconscious, with her hands behind her back and her hair obscuring her face. “What do you want?” Jonny snarls before the callers can get a word in edgewise.

“We have something of yours.”

Brian scowls. “Some _ thing?  _ Where did you find her?”

“That is of no concern to you,” comes a distorted voice. As with the still images, the faces of Nastya’s captors are blacked out, so all they can see are vaguely humanoid shapes. “All you should worry about is paying her ransom.”

_ “Ransom?”  _ Jonny kicks at the control panel, which just causes Aurora to bleep furiously at him. “As soon as we find you, you’re all going to be torn to fucking shreds. And I’ll make it hurt, just for mentioning goddamn  _ ransom.” _

The figure closest to the camera sways a bit. “We look forward to negotiating with you.”

“We’re not—hey, come back here!” Jonny curses and pounds on the controls as the image fades away, leaving them all staring out at the stars once again. “What the fuck! Ivy, how far are we? You should all be ready to bleed these fuckers dry once we get to wherever they are.”

Ivy glances at their current coordinates. “Five minutes and thirty-four seconds of lightspeed remaining.”

For every one of those seconds, Jonny paces around the room, barking out orders that mostly go ignored as the rest of the crew prepare for battle in their own ways. This isn’t a particularly involved endeavor, since the Mechanisms are always ready to murder random strangers. Tim looks over the Toy Soldier’s gun, then his own; Marius fixes his monoggle over his eye and adjusts one of the half-dozen daggers hidden in his clothing; Ashes digs their second-favorite flamethrower out of the hoard of random stuff under their chair; Raphaella leans against the control panel while Ivy preens her metallic feathers into place with the point of a knife; and Brian just watches their destination tick closer, jaw set and eyes blazing, until he’s ready to pull Aurora out of her descent.

As soon as the stars slow down outside, everyone looks up at the window. There’s another ship, even larger than Aurora, drifting in space, its docking apparatus already extended and waiting for Aurora to draw alongside.

“We have no idea what these people even are, much less what they’re capable of,” Ivy murmurs.

Jonny scoffs. “We’re immortal. And they think they have the right to hold Nastya for fucking ransom. I’m not too concerned.”

Without waiting for input from the crew, Aurora approaches the unknown ship until she’s close enough for her airlock to link up with its dock. Brian gives her a nod and pats the controls, silently promising that they’ll bring Nastya back, no matter what it means for the future. They don’t have time to debate that right now.

**Get her out of there,** is all Aurora says.

Once the eight of them are crowded into the airlock, the connection between the two ships equalizes, and then the doors between them slide open with a hydraulic hiss. On the other side, a handful of humans in baggy khaki-brown uniforms wait. None of the Mechanisms take the time to read the uniforms, or wait for an explanation—in the vast majority of cases, anyone in uniform is an enemy to be disposed of, or a temporary diversion at best. More soldiers appear once the first wave goes down, but no matter how many of them emerge from the strange ship, the battle remains quick and ruthless. At the head of the charge, Jonny cackles his way through shot after shot, spraying blood and viscera alike across the walls of the ship, while Brian hefts a gun in one hand and his massive strength in the other. After all, a well-placed punch from a near-seven-foot robot is nearly as debilitating as a bullet wound.

They fight their way through the enemy ship without bothering to search for answers. If none of them ever finds out who managed to get their hands on Nastya after all these years, it might be for the best. At last, Brian rips through a door with one hand to find the same chamber from the messages—and, in the center, Nastya, still passed out in the chair. A pair of guards turn toward them, but Tim takes them out with well-placed shots as Brian lurches forward with rage blazing in his eyes.

“Nastya,” he begs, falling to his knees in front of her. She looks even worse up close, her skin chapped and waxy from years in space, many of them probably spent dead. “Nastya. We’re here for you.”

“More soldiers coming,” Ashes announces, sticking their head out of the doorway. “You’ve got about two minutes before I give up and light this whole ship on fire.”

Even on EjM, Brian’s methods are too delicate for Jonny, who grabs a fistful of Nastya’s hair and slaps her. “Wake up,” he shouts through trembling lips.

Nothing.

While Jonny and Brian continue to search for any sign of consciousness, Marius saws through the ropes binding her wrists and ankles, wincing at the shimmering gunmetal bruises he finds there. “Come on, guys, we can wake her up back on the Aurora.”

Brian concedes. Nastya is still far heavier than the average human, but she feels lighter in his arms than he remembers as he scoops her up and holds her close to his chest. He can’t feel her breathing. He doesn’t think about this fact as he strides back through the ship, which is far quieter now than it was on the way in, given that most of its occupants are dead or bleeding out in the corridors around them. Next to him, Tim’s augmented eyes capture details of the ship here and there—star charts, writing systems, serial numbers on equipment. They’ll figure out who’s to blame later. 

As soon as they return to their own ship, Aurora’s voice cascades over itself in a stream of questions.  **Who took why her she’s not kill them give her back breathing Brian?**

Brian just keeps walking. Once they’re in the bridge, he can send the ship far away from here, somewhere that no one can get their hands on Nastya again. Including them, if that’s what she wants. “I don’t know, Aurora,” he says, his voice almost lost under the sound of his metal feet on the floor. The door to the bridge slides open for him, and Raphaella flits across the room to wipe the dust off Nastya’s old chair. “We have her back. That’s all I know.”

Without further comment, he sets Nastya down in the chair, though he doesn’t let go of her—with one arm around her shoulders, he holds her steady as Jonny prods and shakes her. “Please wake up. You’ve been dead plenty of times before, get over it,” Jonny reminds her.

Nastya stays still. Her skin is cold under Brian’s hands, even more than usual. “Please, Nastya,” he begs.

Aurora keens.

That’s when, at long last, Nastya’s cheek twitches. Jonny starts slapping her face softly, encouraged by the movement, until her nose wrinkles and her eyelashes shift against her face, and Brian grabs Jonny’s hand to stop him. “She’s alive. She’s  _ alive,”  _ he says, as if anyone needs to hear it.

Ivy finishes steering Aurora away from the other ship and turns to brush Nastya’s matted hair away from her forehead. “Nastya,” she echoes. Maybe repeating her name won’t do anything. None of them care.

Then she coughs, and her eyes open with a start—cold blue, whites shot through with seams of sparkling gray, vacant and confused—and everyone else in the room lets out a collective breath.

She’s alive. Even if she wants to be launched right back out into space, she’s alive, and that’s what matters.

**Author's Note:**

> alright look I know hostage situations aren't the same thing as blackmail okay, it's just that the prompt was blackmail/dirty secret/wrongfully accused and like. The Mechs aren't exactly going to be ashamed of, like, anything ever. I could've taken it in a fluffier direction and had the "dirty secrets" be like "one time we did a Soft and Kind thing" or smth but I want angst. *lyf voice* so there you have it.
> 
> anyway this isn't as juicy as it was when I brainstormed it, and it's long enough that it's probably full of weird mistakes, but I'm half-asleep already so! this is what you all get. Maybe after the month ends I'll go back and edit some of these like a real writer. Now is not the time. If you enjoyed this, consider commenting, perchance? It fuels me. Somewhat.
> 
> Speaking of which, I did actually read a book today! Well, first I went to work at 10 AM, only to get there and immediately be greeted by my boss like "Al why are you here you don't start til 4:30," so then I went to Target and did a bunch of Halloween shopping (I'm gonna be a sheep I'm fucking PUMPED). I'm not usually a Halloween person but I've changed a lot in the past few years and maybe I'll like it now. Who knows. THEN I read a Real Book and played guitar for like an hour. Still can't figure out what the fuck is going on with the chords in Skin and Bone. THEN I went to work for real. So it's been a day! Normally my Garbage Shit Brain will only let me do work and write in the middle of the night. Progress.
> 
> Other fic writers probably keep their A/Ns, like, relevant huh? Too fuckin bad. That's why it's at the end, if you're not here for my life story you don't have to read this part! Does anyone say A/N anymore? Am I stuck in 2010? Fuck knows.


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